What was the world worth, anyways?
by Seeress
Summary: [Aftermath oneshot] Kamui finds himself alone and questioning the choices he made. What was the world worth, anyways?


**What was the world worth, anyways?**

_Disclaimer:_ This is a non-profit story written expressly for entertainment purposes. The characters and plot of 'X' belong to their respective owners.

_Author's Notes:_ My first (and probably only) shot at writing an X fic. A friend lent the DVD to me and I watched the movie through without really holding in much of what I saw (I can't even remember all the characters' names…), so if I make a few mistakes, please correct me. The theme that I'm using has probably been done a million times over in other X fics, but I was feeling in the mood to write something like this. Hopefully, it isn't too bad.

Well, (with any luck) enjoy.

~Seeress

**~*~*~*~**

What was the world worth, anyways?

He was tired now. Simply tired. He had no energy left to grieve and cry, to feel anger and remorse and pain. All that was left was a hollow cocoon, a cocoon that, against all odds, had yet to crack. With his eyes unseeing, he had managed to save the world.

As his feet carried him to no particular place and the snow continued to fall, his sluggish mind came to wondering: what was the world worth, anyways?

He didn't know how long he had sat there, cradling Fuuma's head by his face and feeling all the warmth drain out of it. He felt death's icy fingers tug at him, and his exhausted body wanted to relent, but somehow he had wound up walking aimlessly around the snow-covered streets. Cars passed him by and lights glittered everywhere at the edge of his vision. Vaguely, he felt something prick at the back of his neck and he turned to see Tokyo Tower, a dark silhouette against the milky opaqueness of the moon, standing tall in all its glory. Somehow the sight made him feel queasy.

He could still smell Fuuma's blood and taste it on his lips. He could still smell the summertime fragrance of Kotori's hair, feel the silky strands between his fingers. And he could still remember Yuzuhira's dying words, ringing loudly in his ears: _"I wish I had someone to cry for me when I die."_

As he recalled everything from some far distance, emotionally detached to the events, it made him think back to his original question: what was the world worth, anyways?

Kamui. God's power. He had hated his name even as a child, even before he knew what it meant, knew of its significance. There was something… unique about it, unique about him. He wasn't like them. He wasn't like Fuuma or Kotori. And it wasn't fair. Why was it that he had to save the world? Why was it that he had to sacrifice everything and everyone for an infected planet? Had he made the wrong choice?

It was that blasted seer, Hinoto. She had shown him a terrible future, albeit a fake one, to get him to join the Dragons of Heaven. None of it would've been real. If he had ignored it, maybe they all might've survived. But yet… Fuuma had killed Kotori.

Was this Fate and Destiny? He had never wanted to kill Fuuma, or for the final battle to begin. But was losing everyone the only way to save the world? Why should he have saved it? What was the world worth, anyways?

He was still trying to reorganize his puzzled thoughts as he continued to gaze at the tower. A heavy weight seemed to be on his shoulders, as if two giant hands were pinning him in place. But just as suddenly as the burden had come, everything seemed to lift. Realizations dawned on him that had never, through all the grief, dawned on him before. His job was done. Tokyo Tower was intact; the world was safe. 

As he moved to turn away, from the corner of his eye he thought he saw a figure standing on Tokyo Tower, a sword in his hand and his white wings outstretched and billowing softly in the breeze. He turned quickly around and his hand instinctively reached for Fuuma, expecting to feel the caress of a soft feather on his hand, but only a perfect snowflake landed ever-so-gently in his palm.

His feet made no sound and left no trace as he trod over the unblemished blanket of white covering the ground. He was just another fallen angel who deserved to forget. The world was safe. No one needed that kind of burden. No one needed to remember. Besides…

What was the world worth, anyways?

_*OWARI*_


End file.
